full deformity at the first hour of their meeting. The public creditor had been defrauded; the manufacturer was out of employ; trade was languishing; famine clung upon the poor; despair on all. In this situation, the wisdom and feelings of the nation were appealed to by the Government; and was it to be wondered at by Englishmen, that a people so circumstanced should search for the cause and source of all their calamities; or that they should find them in the arbitrary constitution of their government, and in the prodigal and corrupt administration of their revenues? For such an evil, when proved, what remedy could be resorted to but a radical amendment of the frame and fabric of the constitution itself? This change was not the object and wish of the National Assembly only; it was the claim and cry of all France, united as one man for one purpose. He joined with Mr. Burke in abhorring the cruelties that had been committed; but what was the striking lesson, the awful moral, that was to be gathered from the outrages of the populace ? What but a superior abhorrence of that accursed system of despotic government which had so deformed and corrupted human nature as to make its subjects capable of such acts—a government that sets at nought the property, the liberty, and lives of the subjects; a government that deals in extortion, dungeons, and tortures; sets an example of depravity to the slaves it rules over; and, if a day of power comes to the wretched populace, it is not to be wondered at, however it is to be regretted, that they act without those feelings of justice and humanity which the principles and the practice of their governors have stripped them of. At the same time, if there were any persons who, for the purposes of their own private and per

sonal ambition, had instigated those outrages, they, whatever their rank, birth, or fortune, deserved the execration of mankind. Justice, however, required that no credit should be given to mere rumours on such a subject."

Mr. Burke replied that he most sincerely lamented over the inevitable necessity of now publicly declaring that, henceforth, he and his honourable friend were separated in politics. He complained "that he had not represented his arguments fairly; it was not what he expected in the moment of departed friendship. On the contrary, was it not evident that the honourable gentleman had made a sacrifice of his friendship for the sake of catching some momentary popularity?—all the applause which he could gain from clubs was scarcely worthy the sacrifice which he had chosen to make for such an acquisition." Attempts were in vain made to heal the breach thus made between two men who had so often fought together mighty battles against power, against corruption and tyranny. A meeting took place at Burlington House, according to a previous arrangement; it lasted from ten o'clock at night until three in the morning, and never was there a more remarkable display of talent on both sides. Burke was, however, implacable; all communication ceased between them; and though Sheridan spoke of him, in the House of Commons, as one for whose talents and personal virtue he had the highest esteem, veneration, and regard, all was in vain. Burke spoke of him with asperity from that time forward, and attributed to his unwarrantable interference his own secession from his former party.

It was alleged that Sheridan had hastened on this

separation by his imprudent speeches, and that this was the result of jealousy, and an anxious desire to fill the place in Charles Fox's esteem that for a quarter of a century Burke had enjoyed. Of the littleness that could invent this calumny we may speak with contempt, but of the eagerness to diffuse the venom we think with disgust. It is not unlikely that Sheridan should have urged on this explanation of the differences which existed in that great party, whose chief end and aim was declared to be the love of a pure and well-defined constitution, which, whilst it guarded the liberties of a people, acknowledged frankly the great principles of royalty and of a House of Lords.

A speech made by Sheridan on a motion of Mr. Grey, against any interference in the war between Russia and the Porte, is well worthy of perusal, as illustrating the information, and likewise the discretion and tact with which he could handle a subject of difficulty. It is remarkable for the avowal of a doctrine that the prerogative of the crown to declare war might prove obnoxious to the House, and that there existed an ancient, constitutional, and most useful function of a British House of Commons to advise the crown, and by a due application of their preventive wisdom to save the country from that expense and calamity into which they might otherwise be plunged, either by the terror of ministers, their imprudence, their neglect, or their corruption.

Mr. Sheridan retired in the month of April from the business of the House; during this period there are no records of speeches to be met with, no traces of his occupation. In fact, his mind was harassed by many conflicting thoughts. Mrs. Sheridan's state of health excited the deepest apprehension. She was

compelled to seek change of air at Clifton. The state of Drury Lane Theatre, too, was such as to be a source of much anxiety to him; it had been pronounced by competent persons to be unfit to receive large audiences, and that it was necessary that it should be rebuilt. The circumstances attending such a determination could not fail to require all the attention of Mr. Sheridan. His time and mind were devoted to the completion of the plans that were now devised, and from which hopes were entertained that ultimate advantages would accrue. These hopes were not destined to be fulfilled; and we may look to this period of this great man's life as the one from which sprang all the ultimate misfortunes that gradually overpowered him. He had now attained the zenith of his reputation. His popularity, his talents, and his exertions were all the theme of general eulogy. Though some slight embarrassments had occurred, they had passed away like the fleeting clouds across the summer sun; but he was now destined to fall from the giddy height, and to feel how transitory are all the gifts of fortune. He had, it would seem, three establishments, and his style of living was such as became a man mingling in the richer class of society and enjoying all that luxury can give. To build the theatre seemed an easy task; all that was required was one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. This was raised with the utmost facility in three hundred debentures of five hundred pounds each; but the difficulty of paying the interest on that large sum was scarcely calculated upon. Three instalments were to be paid up, and as soon as one was paid all was prepared. On the 4th of June, his Majesty's birthday, Old Drury Lane, the scene of so many

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extraordinary circumstances, closed for ever. company went to the Opera House, and from thence, when the musical season commenced, to the Haymarket, where they played at advanced prices. On the 4th of September the first stone of the new theatre was laid. Unforeseen difficulties, fresh expenses, vexatious negotiations, combined to retard the completion of the new theatre; and during this interval a sad calamity occurred.

It was in the year 1792 that Sheridan had to mourn over the grave of his beautiful and affectionate wife. She was only thirty-eight years of age, when a pulmonary disease bereft him of the cherished partner of his happiest days. From that moment a blight fell upon him - he soon became an altered man. There was no one who was ever admitted into her presence that did not feel there was a divinity about her. Jackson, the great composer, said "that to see her, as she stood singing beside him at the pianoforte, was like looking into the face of an angel." The Bishop of Norwich was wont to say that she seemed to him "the connecting link between woman and angel." Even the licentious and coarse John Wilkes was fascinated into respect and admiration; he pronounced her the most beautiful flower that ever grew in nature's garden. "This beautiful mother of a beautiful race" united so many charms, was so gifted by art as well as by nature, as to surpass the ordinary beings of the earth. The incense that was offered at her shrine doubtless produced some influence upon her mind, which from her earliest years had been accustomed to the sweetest sounds of flattery. She was taught by a host of admirers that she was the theme of general adora